


Retrieve

by lordcovfefe



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Angst, Bad Communication, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Kinda, Memory Loss, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slow Burn, Some politics, Survivor Guilt, True Love, excessive flirting, horse spit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-10-20 18:47:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17627666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lordcovfefe/pseuds/lordcovfefe
Summary: Calamity Ganon is defeated. Their work is finished, and yet is has just begun. Link and Zelda navigate post-game Hyrule together and discover exactly what it's going to take to return it to its former glory. Slow burn romance, some politics, eventual smut. Lots of fun.





	1. Ash

“May I ask...do you really remember me?”

 

Link is standing some distance away in the tall grass. It’s swaying in the wind, the peacefulness strange considering what just happened here.

 

He doesn’t come any closer. Zelda watches his face and waits for a reply as the last of the red clouds dissipates.

 

He stares. She waits. Nearby, the coo of a dove.

 

She is about to speak when he does.

 

“I...remember more every day. But there’s a lot I’m still missing. I want to say yes, but I…”

 

He doesn’t say more. She feels like crying, but she doesn’t. Enough tears.

 

“I’m sorry Link, I...I know this all must be very confusing,” She says. “It wasn’t...very considerate of me to ask that right away. I just want you to know that…” 

 

There’s a lot she wants him to know.

 

“That I’m glad to see you again. We have time to figure out the rest.”

 

A small smile on his lips. Though her head is swimming with questions, the sight of it brings a smile to hers as well.  _ One step at a time… _

 

She looks around at the field. Some trees are still on fire, beginning to flame out and turn to ash.

 

Behind them, Hyrule castle looms. 

 

Zelda and Link look at each other, then begin walking towards it. She doesn’t know why they do it. If he does, he doesn’t say.

 

Castle Town looks simultaneously scorched and frozen. 

 

Guardian corpses are sputtering and flickering around the square. These machines that once saved the world, and then destroyed it. Their story ends here, laying silently across the village they razed.

 

She notices a rusted shield tucked into the top tier of the plaza fountain.  _ Strange,  _ she thinks. Then it registers. All soldiers of the infantry were taught to claim whatever high ground possible in battle. This particular soldier was able to recall his training among the terror, it seems.

 

But what is high ground against the blast of a guardian’s laser?

 

Link, who was once the captain of her guard, walks behind her. She wonders if he might have known, or even trained, the owner of this shield.

 

They reach the castle gate and look up. Neither speaks. 

 

Now she knows why they were drawn here. To say goodbye. 

 

She thinks of Mipha, her sweet voice and the soft clanking of her jewels. She thinks of Revali, and the time he stayed up all night helping her with her archery. She thinks of Daruk’s fearlessness of all creatures except canine. It made her laugh in a time when nothing else could. She thinks of Urbosa. Her hugs smelled like amber and jasmine. No one will ever call her  _ little bird  _ again.

 

She thinks of her father, of the way he greeted her in the castle hallways when she was small. He would pick her up and swing her around until she was dizzy, his voice booming down the corridor.  _ My little Zelda! Light as a feather, and so full of mischief! Are you sure you’re a girl, and not a korok? _

 

_ I’m a girl, I’m a girl!  _ Zelda would squeal back, laughing in delight.

 

Now, grief is all across her heart like lead. Seizing her behind the breastbone until she chokes.

 

The turrets no longer swirl magenta. It’s gone. The beast that murdered her loved ones. That  _ thing _ that almost, nearly, succeeded in destroying Hyrule.

 

_ And what is Hyrule now? _

 

A beat more, and then they both turn from the castle. She is the first to speak.

 

“I’m afraid I...I do not know this Hyrule. I must ask you to be my guide. I am not sure where to go now...or quite what to do to be honest…”

 

No sooner are the words out of her mouth that they again are compelled again to look towards the castle. She cannot be certain, but she sees what looks like figures on top of the castle. Five of them, glowing the color of sea glass.

 

_ They are proud of you,  _ she hears the sword say.

 

She wants to cry, but they have seen her cry enough. 

 

She remembers hearing of how her mother and grandmother could talk to spirits. The light of Hylia warms in her, though it is muted in comparison to when it raged through her only minutes ago.

 

Every inch of her being ablaze. When she sealed an ancient evil.

 

No, this magic is much softer, but still bright in her belly and teeth. With it, she gathers up the emotion cresting on her heart. It feels like affection, an apology, and forgiveness. It rolls off her being and up towards the spirits.

 

She knows they receive it. It is done.

 

And yet it has just begun.

 

This time Link breaks the spell with speech.

 

“There’s a stable nearby. We should get you there to rest. After I woke on the plateau, I was pretty weak for the first couple days.”

 

_ A stable. Her people.  _

 

_ Or are they hers anymore? _

 

As if reading her mind, he says, “We can get you in discreetly.” Looking at her filthy prayer dress, he adds, “And maybe find some new clothes. You don’t have to...you don’t have to make yourself known just yet.”

 

_ One step at a time. _

 

“Thank you,” she says. “Which way?”

 

He points, and she starts to walk.

 

Or at least tries to. She makes it a couple steps before she stumbles and falls on the flagstones, extending her arms to stop her fall.

 

In an instant, he’s there.

 

“Princess! Are you okay? Did you injure anything?”

 

To her surprise, he extracts her ankles from under her and begins inspecting them.

 

“Does this hurt?” he asks, rolling the joint in small circles.

 

No, it doesn’t hurt. Shivers run across her scalp.  _ Any _ touch after one hundred years of isolation is unspeakable relief.  _ His _ touch is a rainstorm in a desert.

 

She doesn’t reply, but looks at him. His hair is still the color of wheat in the sun. He’s covered in blood and dirt, and he smells like blood and dirt too. 

 

She can  _ smell.  _ She can smell  _ him. _

 

They realize at the same time that they’re staring at each other. He sets her foot down, gently, to not inflict any further damage.

 

He clears his throat. “So...you’re okay?”

 

When she speaks, her voice is thin.

 

“Yes...yes, I think so. I’m just weak, like you said I would be. I’m sure I can walk, if I just…”

 

She moves as to stand up, but he grabs her shoulders. Again, his touch floods her body in golden waves. 

 

“Wait here, I’ll be back with Nancy.”

 

_Who is Nancy?_ _Is there another woman? Why would he bring her here?_

 

Hooves and a pair of feet approach. Link jogs over to her with the splendid chestnut mare he rode in battle. Zelda snorts to herself, and at herself. 

 

She feels foolish, sitting on the ground as Link and Nancy draw closer. Nancy sticks her nose into Zelda’s hair, sniffs it, then takes some into her mouth and chews.

 

“Nance, no! Cut it out!” Link says, his hands flying down and opening the horse’s jaw.

 

Horse spit runs down a large clump of her hair. It’s sticking together and it smells.

 

Link is wiping at it with his sleeve. “I’m so sorry. She really has the worst manners. Sweet, but no concept of personal space. We’ll get you a bath at the stable.”

 

She has a body again. She needs to bathe. She needs to eat. She probably will need a bathroom, and soon.

 

With that in mind, she allows herself to be collected off the ground and hoisted onto Nancy’s back. 

 

His hands are rough with callouses and his Gerudo arm wraps are starting to come loose. She wants to unravel them, so she can see his skin. Instead, she nods when he asks her if she’s comfortable.

 

Even though she’s still wearing her prayer dress, he does not seat her side-saddle. She hopes it’s because he remembers how she hates that.

 

Link clicks his tongue at Nancy and she begins to walk. When the animal starts moving, Zelda’s dress rides up her thighs.

 

Link turns back to ask again if she’s comfortable and seems to notice this as well. His eyes trail over her bare leg, now exposed to well above her knee. 

 

He blushes. So does she. He looks away and clears his throat.

 

“If you would, um..prefer to…”

 

“It’s fine,” Zelda blurts. “Really, I’m ok. I never liked riding side saddle anyways,” she says awkwardly.

 

“I remember,” he says, and her heart does a somersault.

 

They move onwards in silence, Link leading Nancy slowly as to not jostle the princess. She tries once or twice to tug the hem of her dress down, but it’s not much use.

 

She instead shifts her focus without, greeting the new Hyrule. A restless cricket scurries across the path. A spray of Amoranth, starting to brown in the sun, peeks out from behind some rocks. She knows the flora and fauna so well, she knows this path so well, and yet it is entirely alien.

 

The same could be said for her knight, whose slow steps are crunching on the dirt before her. Her eyes travel over the blue tie in his hair, his small but athletic frame, the tunic that she made herself.

 

She wants to lay her hands on his head, his neck, his chest. Oddly, she has an urge to bite his ear. Instead, she analyzes the pattern in which mud has dried on his boots. 

 

Over and over, the question in her mind:  _ how much do you remember? _

 

But she will not ask him again. Not now. He has much to recover other than just memories of her. 

 

_ Selfish Zelda. _

 

The sun is still up, though no longer high, when the top of a stable appears in the distance. Zelda gasps. It is smaller, and a good deal more slapdash, than the stables of her memory. 

 

She says so.

 

Link stops, and Nancy does too. He does not look back again, though she suspects it is out of consideration for her state of dress.

 

“I know the owner of this stable. He told me his wife's grandfather felled the lumber while her grandmother wove the canvas. Their parents died in the Calamity. They were sixteen. Your people...have done their best, your highness.”

 

She is not sure if he meant to chastise, or to educate. She feels chastised just the same.

 

They are getting closer, and she can see that he is agitated. It’s strange and thrilling for him to telegraph this at all. She’s never seen him show discomfort before, apart from when he died in her arms. 

 

Now, he is looking around and rolling his right shoulder. Yes, definitely more expressive. She probably won’t tell him this, unless he asks.

 

Still gripping Nancy’s bridle, he leads both horse and princess off the path. Zelda is almost too tired to protest. Almost.

 

“Where are we going?” she asks. 

 

“I thought you wanted to be inconspicuous. I just need to arrange a couple things at the stable,” he says, gesturing to ask if she’s ready to come down. They’re in the middle of a large rock formation.

 

She nods, eager to feel his hands on her again.

 

He grips her firmly and she can feel his callouses. She’s nervous about the fabric of her dress bunched around her hips. Luckily, it’s heavy with sweat and dirt. It tumbles down as she is hoisted off the horse.

 

He nestles her among the rocks, then releases her waist. She wants to grab his hands and put them back, but she doesn’t.

 

He’s digging around in his pack. It’s larger than the one she remembers. It looks full.

 

From it, he produces a small bow. It’s made from wood and has been carved into whorls at the joints. A leaf at one end. It looks mossy to her.

 

He extends the bow to hear and she takes it, confused. It is mossy. The wood is soft on her shaking hands.

 

“What’s this?” she asks, but he’s digging in his pack again. She looks at the top of his head and wonders if his bangs ever bother him. They’re always in his eyes.

 

He stands, a couple arrows in his hand. But she’s never seen arrows like these before. That is, unmistakably, ancient Sheikah technology on the head. It looks heavy and awkward. It must be, considering the amount of linen it took to secure it to the shaft.

 

The fletching is blue, and the head is glowing a faint blue as well. 

 

She has questions. 

 

“This...this is ancient tech! Did they make other weapons too? How is the durability? Have you ever seen a maker’s mark?”

 

She’s being loud. He shushes her, though there’s a little grin on his face.

 

“I promise to tell you everything I know, once we’ve gotten you some food. Do you think you can still shoot?”

 

She blanches. The bow and arrows are for her. Also, he  _ remembers _ her archery.

 

“I...I think so. I don’t have any reason to believe not. But...why? Why do I need these?”

 

“I’m going up to the stable to let Embry know we’re coming. You stay here, and I’ll get everything sorted.”

 

He’s lacing up his pack again. 

 

“I want to come with you,” she says softly. She meant to think it.

 

“He needs to know ahead of time that you’re coming in through the back. I strung the bow light so you can still shoot, even if you’re weak. Those arrows will kill anything in one hit. I think I’ve cleared the area, but still. If you see  _ anything, any _ kind of monster. Shoot. Don’t hesitate.”

 

He feeds Nancy a sugar cube and ruffles her mane. 

 

“You stay here and watch out for the princess.”

 

He jogs ahead, and Zelda wants to shout after him _. Don’t go. Not again. _

 

Instead she looks again at the bow he gave her. It’s small, like it was made for a child. Curiously, the bow string is a vine. She thinks of the weaponry of her memory, all steel and smoke and metal. 

 

Do the smithys of this Hyrule work in vines and soft bark? Or was this crafted by a different folk?

 

And these arrows...Link said they would kill anything in one hit.  _ How would this be possible, scientifically? _ She searches her mind but frowns at the fog that closes in on any coherent lines of reasoning. She supposes one hundred years of stasis might result in some mental disorientation. She will need her capacities though, and soon.

 

_ One day at a time. Things will return to normal. _

 

She turns to look again at the strange stable.

 

_ Whatever normal is. _

 

Again footsteps approach at the pace of a jog. She knows those steps anywhere.

 

“Hi,” he says. He’s sheathing his sword. She’s not sure why, because she doesn’t see any threat anywhere. “Ready?”

 

_ Not really. _

 

“I suppose,” she says, smoothing her hair. Ah. Saliva.

 

He sees her wince. “Come on, let’s get you a bath.”

 

She desperately wants his touch again, but she must take every opportunity to regain her strength. Hyrule needs her.

 

“I think I can walk from here. I’ll let you know if I start feeling dizzy.”

A suspicious look, but he nods and takes Nancy by the reins again. She follows his lead, a slow sticky pace, across the path and into a copse of trees next to the stable. The horizon is starting to glow orange as the sun sets. Some insects are buzzing in the evening air. She’s not sure which ones.

 

Zelda’s breath tickles at her lips.  _ Take it slow. Breathe in, breathe out _ . She decides not to look at the Dueling Peaks. Or around at all, really.

 

One foot in front of the other.

 

Link ties Nancy quickly to a post. They duck through a low wooden door, which he bolts after her. He’s checking the bolt, rattling at the hinge. She looks around. Lanterns flickering, a man filling a pack with linen shirts, and a woman fluffing a straw mattress. They turn at the noise and, seeing her, fall to their knees.

 

“Your highness, we are at your service,” sputters the man, who is having trouble finding his balance. He is on two bended knees instead of the customary one, with the other foot planted in order stabilize the whole operation. 

 

_ They have never knelt to anyone before,  _ Zelda thinks.  _ They don’t know how.  _ Link is gesturing for them to get up, quietly but with urgency.

 

“Please, rise,” Zelda says, a quaver in her voice. “I humbly accept your service and I am delighted to make your acquaintance. Please, do tell me your names.”

 

She smiles as them, politely nodding her head in greeting, as they unfold their limbs and return to standing.

 

“I’m called Embry, your highness, and this is my wife Rochelle. We run this stable together.”

 

“My grandfather built it himself,” Rochelle adds.

 

“So I have heard. It is beautiful and welcoming indeed,” Zelda says, extending a hand to the lady of the establishment as she finds her feet.

 

She blushes, but accepts the assistance.

 

“We’ve prepared our room for you as best we can,” she says, with an awkward curtsy. “It’s not too fancy, but we hope it can bring you some rest after...well, after everything that’s happened.”

 

Zelda is about to protest, but Link gives her a look that she understands.

 

“I cannot thank you enough, Embry and Rochelle. This Hyrule is still unfamiliar to me, but if it has such gracious and kind citizens such as yourselves, then I am very hopeful for its future. I shall be honored to be your guest.”

 

Embry is beaming.

 

“The honor is all ours, your highness!”

 

He scurries around the room, showing her what they’ve prepared for her in the little notice they received. A modest dress in Hylian fashion that Rochelle insists Zelda take.  _ It’s a little old, but I’ve mended it and it should fit you just fine.  _ A basin, strong soap, and some rough but freshly laundered cloths for washing. A pitcher of fresh water from the river, and a chamber pot with a sturdy lid.

 

“Rochelle is making her creamy seafood soup. It should be ready shortly! We’ll bring it to you right away, your highness! It’s her family’s recipe, you know! No one makes it like she does!”

 

Rochelle bats at her husband and shoos him out of the room, insisting that he give the princess privacy to tend to her needs. After asking for the fourth time if she can bring anything else, she ducks out of the room as well.

 

Zelda blows out all the air from her lungs. Joy, at seeing her people and their resourcefulness. Also trepidation. Not every Hylian will be so captivated by royalty, she wagers. Then, a thought. She turns to Link, who is adding a log to the brazier in the corner of the room.

 

“How do they know who I am?”

 

He gives the log one last poke, then his hand comes to the back of his neck and scratches as he cocks his head to the side slightly.  _ Cute,  _ she thinks.

 

“Embry smithed for me before I set out for the castle. He knows the legends well. He saw the sword, and the tunic, and with the amount of things I had prepared...well, he put it together. Smart guy.”

 

“Ah. Well, I suppose there are those who will...”

 

She wants to say more, but her voice is still coming back to her and her throat tickles from speaking so much to her hosts. Instead, she looks at him.

 

He looks back. It feels like a stream of  _ something  _ is pushing her towards him. She can’t say what. It shimmers slightly. It’s hot, and insistent at her ribs and ankles. Running down her tongue and into the base of her throat.

 

“I, uh, I’ll go check on that soup for you. Take your time doing...whatever you need to do. I’ll be just on the other side of the door.”

 

He makes to leave, then looks at the basin and stops. Gestures,  _ one second.  _ Out of his pack, the most curious looking weapon. It’s glowing red and the end looks like the tail of a comet. He flicks his wrist, and a ball of flame flies off the end and into the water where it turns to steam instantly.

 

Zelda jumps.

 

“What was  _ that _ ?”

 

“Fire rod. Got it off a wizrobe. The water should be hot now,” he says, then adds, “maybe give it a second to cool down.” With a small bow, he leaves the room and closes the door. 

 

And then she is alone. For the first time in one hundred years, she is alone. Without the snarling howl of an ancient demon consuming her.

 

Someone starts to play the accordion softly in the common room.  _ Thank Hylia.  _ She’s not ready for silence yet.

 

Exhaustion is heavy around her eyes. She strips, determined to at least wash and drink some water before it overtakes her completely. She removes the golden cuffs that bear the sigil of Hyrule. They have not tarnished, but they do need polishing. They were digging into her wrists and there are indentations on her arms.

 

With the clean cloth and soap, she begins scrubbing at herself. She’s a little unsure, because her maids used to do this for her. Does Link not remember that, or did he think the matter of who would help her would be an awkward one?

 

Either way, she’s grateful for both the privacy and the learning opportunity. She does not intend to be a spoiled and helpless princess in this lifetime. She is not sure if she intends to be a princess at all.

 

_ One step at a time. _

 

When she is scrubbed, and the horse spit is out of her hair as best she can manage, she pulls on the simple dress Rochelle gave her. She doesn’t have a nightdress, and this is a far better option than her soiled prayer dress.

 

She looks in the smudged looking glass. She always thought pink was atrocious on blondes, but this shade isn’t too bad. She makes use of the chamber pot, and drinks nearly half the pitcher of cool water. She’s finishing a loose braid when a knock comes at the door.

 

“Your highness?”

 

Her heart falls. It’s not him.

 

“Yes, Rochelle. Come in.”

 

Rochelle enters, carrying a tray. The soup smells delicious. There are fresh rolls, and a single silent princess in a vase. At first, she is sad to see it plucked. Then, her sadness is overcome by tenderness and gratitude for the hospitality.

 

“This smells and looks absolutely wonderful. I truly can’t thank you enough. And this silent princess is beautiful. It's always been my favorite flower.”

 

Rochelle sets the tray down and wipes her hands on her apron.

 

“We know, actually. Your knight told us,” she says, gesturing her head to the common room. “Carries them with him, and has even planted seeds around Hyrule. He’s very fond of you, you know. Doesn’t say much, but when he does talk, it’s about you.”

 

Now it’s Zelda’s turn to blush.

 

“I owe Link everything. He would never take the credit for it, but Hyrule does too.”

 

Rochelle smiles.

 

“As far as I know, that boy has helped everyone he’s come along. He climbed up on the roof during a terrible storm to patch the canvas for me. My sister lives out in Hateno and told me on her last visit that he brings her son any weapons he wants to see, just to delight the little fella. Even if he hadn’t beat  _ that thing, _ he’d still be a hero to us.”

 

A little tear is collecting in the corner of Zelda’s eye that she didn’t notice. She wipes it away and gives Rochelle another warm smile.

 

“Thank you so much for the food, and for everything. I feel at home already.”

 

“It’s my pleasure, princess. Welcome back.”

 

She leaves, and Zelda is alone again. A beat, and then the sound of a chair being dragged to rest beside her door. She hears a body settle into it as well as the sound of steel being unsheathed.

 

She is not sure if he remembers this, but she does. Before, in their travels across Hyrule, he would keep watch by her door while she slept, cleaning his weapons and doing inventory. It used to drive her crazy. She was so irked by his presence that she couldn’t sleep. Now, it is an indescribable comfort.

 

Climbing into the scratchy but warm bed, she smiles. She can still hear the sounds of accordion drifting through the door, as well as the rumbling din of travelers eating their supper. The fire Link built crackles in the brazier, and her hair smells like soap and clean water. Most comforting of all, she can hear  _ him _ on the other side of the door. He’s there. He’s real. He’s alive.

  
_ Rest now, chosen one,  _ she hears the sword say.  _ All is well. _


	2. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our sweet bumbling babies make some progress in getting reacquainted and also back track a bit with some v awkward moments...will they ever get it together???

Bird song outside the window. Melodic chirping that comes at odd intervals, sometimes seconds, sometimes a minute.

 

Zelda’s eyes open and close, _one two three._

 

Canvas stretched over beams comes into focus as her senses drift like feathers tracing a lazy path to the ground. Finally they settle, soft and downy, and she realizes where she is.

 

_Link._

 

She could have kept sleeping for hours, but now she’s awake. She stretches her legs out long and feels the blood flowing back into her ankles and calves. Her toes tingle, and she wonders at having toes again. Getting to her feet, she still feels weak. Like a newborn foal.

 

_No matter, foals can still run their first day of life._

 

There’s a tray on the table with cold soup and cold rolls. She fell asleep without eating them. She’s not hungry yet, but she shovels several spoonfuls and half a roll into her mouth. There, now it looks like she at least ate some of it.

 

_Hiccup._

 

_Ate too fast._

 

Not intending to make the day’s debut with fishy breath, she rinses out her mouth with some water and chews on the sprig of Hyrule Herb that Rochelle left on the tray.

 

She’s already dressed and the braid she wove last night held up well while she slept. Must not have moved much.

 

She looks again at the tray, thinks a moment, then takes the silent princess out of its vase and tucks it behind her ear.

 

A glance in the looking glass. It looks pretty, but it’s too much. She puts it back in the vase.

 

There’s light illuminating the canvas walls, but it’s shy and pale. It must be just after dawn. She holds her ear to the door, gauging the level of wakefulness of the common room as well as one traveler in particular. She hears faint snoring and a horse being brushed out. A shallow breath, and then she slowly opens the door and peeks her head out.

 

Link is asleep in a rough wooden chair next to her door. He’s snoring a little and his mouth is open. The master sword is across his lap. He looks very peaceful except for the hand resting on the pommel. It somehow has a wakefulness; there’s something predatory about it. She shivers and creeps past him as silently as she can.

 

There are two travelers sleeping soundly in the beds here in the common room. The others she heard last night must have left early or carried on in the night.

 

A wooden circle overhead is suspending several lanterns that add a soft glow to the circular room. She feels foolish, again, for criticizing the stable. It’s lovely.

 

She doesn’t see Ember or Rochelle, and guesses that they are outside grooming horses. A book is laying open on a table nearby.

 

She thumbs through the pages and learns several things: there is a traveler named Traysi who apparently has left accounts other than just this one, there is a royal guards’ set still in the castle, and Hylians are encouraging others to loot the castle for treasure.

 

The sentence that most sticks out, however, is that Traysi would like to see the castle restored to its former glory, royal guards and all.

 

She hums thoughtfully, making a mental note.

 

It was a soft hum, but it seems to have awoken Link from his slumber.

 

She turns at the sound of him jerking awake, and sees that his hand has closed tighter over the pommel. He stops himself just before drawing, though.

 

She’s staring with some amusement at his ruckus awakening.

 

“Do you always wake up like that?” she asks.

 

She meant to tease, but the look on his face tells her that he does. Her stomach drops.

 

“Oh,” is all she can manage.

 

He spares her fumbling for more words by getting up and strapping the sword to its usual place on his back.

 

“We should head out soon so we can make some ground before lunch,” he says, shaking his head a little to clear the sleep. “I can make crepes for breakfast. Does that sound good?”

 

“Yes it does,” she says, smiling. “I see food is still your first priority in the morning.”

 

The pit in her stomach is gone now.

 

“Always,” he says, and for a moment it feels like no time at all has passed.

 

He helps her collect her things from the private room in the back, carefully folding the dirty dress and her royal jewelry into some cloth.

 

“We can do some washing once we get to Kakariko,” he says, wrapping the necklace carefully so it won’t tangle. His hands and hair are clean this morning. He must have bathed last night too.

 

She wants to wash with him in the river. She wants to feel his damp skin. She wants him to feel hers. It’s not enough, standing here and watching his hands as he packs. That _thing_ is rising in her; again that hot and insistent shimmer of _something_. This time it’s taken root in her pelvis and is pushing up along the seam of her.

 

She’s biting her lip, and he’s noticed.

 

_Oops._

 

She straightens and smoothes herself back to propriety. But now he’s gone a little slack jawed.

 

“Shall we eat?” she asks, but her voice pops a little.

 

He stares a moment more, then his mouth closes. He nods quickly, and leads her out to the cooking pot.

  


\------

 

“Din, I’ve missed your cooking,” she says through a mouth full of honeyed crepes.

 

They’re sitting outside on the wooden stools by the cookpot. The air is sweet with the scent of smoking honey. He’s given her his hood, so she’s warm even though the sun isn’t overhead yet.

 

“It’s nothing special. I just follow the recipe,” he says, adding another egg to the cookpot. “It’s actually pretty fun to harvest the honey. I like to time it with a boko nearby so the bees go for _it_ instead of me.”

 

He’s _talking._ And sharing details of his travels without being prompted. She wants to leap up and hug him, but instead she takes another bite.

 

A doughy looking man approaches from behind and take a seat at the fire with them. Zelda can tell that Link knows him, because he doesn’t have that dangerous energy pulsing across his fingers.

 

“Morning, Gotter.”

 

“Hello Link. And hello, miss. May I ask your name?”

 

“Gotter, this is…”

 

“I’m Madeleine,” Zelda replies, cutting him off. “Very pleased to meet you.”

 

“How do you do, Madeleine. Say, has anyone ever told you you have the most beautiful features?”

 

She hears Link expel a little puff of air that might be laughter.

 

“I...not those particular words, no. Thank you very much, Gotter.”

 

“Yes, very symmetrical indeed. Like classical art. I feel inspired just looking at you. I’m a great lover of beauty, you see. Beauty, and elegant cuisine. That’s how I got this impressive figure.”

 

“You look great,” she replies.

 

“I know,” he says. “Naturally blessed, and food does the rest. Mr. Link here has inspired my taste for the _most_ exotic recipes by making them himself and bringing them to me.”

 

She looks over at “Mr. Link”. His eyes are crinkling playfully.

 

“Is that so?”

 

“Yes, indeed,” Gotter says. “Even made me a _fruit cake_ . The _real_ royal recipe. It used to be Princess Zelda’s favorite.” Then, turning to Link, “say, got any more of those?”

 

Link actually produces an entire slice of fruitcake from his pack. It’s not smushed.

 

 _What in the world_ , she wonders.

 

“Just one for you today, Gotter. The other is for _Madeleine_ here. She has almost the same exact taste as the princess,” Link says with a stupid little smirk.

 

Gotter nods in approval.

 

“Excellent taste, then. I should love to talk more about your sophisticated palette. And to to look on your lovely face while we discuss the finer things in life.”

 

“Another time,” Zelda says. “We have to make our way out on the road. But the next time I’m here, I’ll tell you about a _three-tiered_ cake I once ate.”

 

She widens her eyes for a dramatic flourish.

 

Gotter’s eyes also open wide in response. They’re sparkling like an entire constellation.

 

“ _Three-tiered_ cake you say...I never heard of such a thing! My, the construction alone...it must be as beautiful as it is delicious. Please come back as soon as you can. I shall be thinking of nothing else!”

 

Then a different kind of looks comes over his face.

 

“Wait a moment...did you say you two are traveling together?” he asks, looking at Link, then Zelda, then back at Link again. “I’ve never seen you travel with a woman before...I never thought you would have. You seem like the handsome and lonesome type. But this...this I like!”

 

He’s beaming at them.

 

“You two with your beautiful faces...oh...it’s almost too much! I can’t decide which one of you is prettier. Please say you plan on children! They would be to a whole new standard of beauty like no one has ever seen! Just perfection!”

 

Link stands up.

 

“And now, we’re leaving. Bye Gotter. Watch your mouth next time, or no more cake.”

 

Zelda double checks her own small pack (another gift from Rochelle) then follows Link around the side of the stable where Ember is tackling Nancy.

 

She’s about to make a joke about Gotter’s comments, but then notices he’s scratching the back of his neck again. _He’s embarrassed!_

 

But why? Bashful, because he’s thought of it too? Or horrified that someone might think they’re a couple?

 

She suddenly feels a bit plain in the old pink dress. Maybe she should have kept the flower in her hair.

 

Link looks around the corner at something, then wheels around and stops.

 

“So, Madeleine, huh?”

 

She’s a little confused why they’re stopping here, instead of just having this discussion on the road. But he probably has a reason.

 

Deep breath. This conversation was coming.

 

“I’m just not ready yet. For everyone I meet to know who I am. I don’t know if they’ll call me a liar, or start groveling, or spit in my face for failing Hyrule the first time. Either way, it’s too much right now. I’m still...trying to figure out what I want. Or even who I am to Hyrule now.”

 

He has a pained look on his face and has turned red.

 

“I’m doing my best to decide quickly! I’m thinking about it, and taking notes, and observing the people of Hyrule. I already have been cataloging several public opinions. I just need a larger data pool, is all...then I’ll know. I will. I’ll figure it out, and faster this time.”

 

“No, no, it’s not that!” he replies. “I don’t want you to feel pressured by me at all, to do anything. It’s just...uh...something else. Can you wait here for a second?”

 

He darts around the corner, and then hears him speaking frantically to Rochelle. She can’t quite make out what he’s saying. She turns the corner, curious to see what all this is about.

 

Her heart nearly stops.

 

It’s her horse. It  _has_ to be her horse. But how?

 

Rochelle is tackling him with his old royal gear. Link had gone to stop her, it seems.

 

Her head hurts and the sun is too bright.

 

Could Jinx have been in some kind of stasis too? Or is it a different horse with incredible resemblance? And if so, where did the gear come from?

 

She approaches. Link and Rochelle are frozen, looking to each other, then Zelda.

 

“I’m sorry!” he blurts. “I wanted to surprise you, but now I know that was stupid. Stupid. If you don’t want people to know who you are, I doubt this will help,” he finishes, gesturing to the purple gear.

 

She’s still staring at the horse.

 

“Is this Jinx? How...how?”

 

_Impressive vocabulary for a princess. Father would be glad for all the expensive tutors._

 

“No, she’s a descendant. An identical one, somehow. The owner of the stable near Safula Hill got the gear from his grandfather, and held onto it. Gave it to me when I caught the horse.”

 

“Wow,” she says, reaching her hand out to the stunning white horse. “You look just like someone I used to know.”

 

The horse smells her hand and snorts a little.

 

“And I see you have the same attitude, as well.”

 

Link is smiling.

 

“Yeah, she’s definitely feisty.”

 

Then, “I have other gear we can put on her. Rochelle, can you…?”

 

Zelda considers stopping her. The white mare looks stunning in the royal gear. Like she was made to wear it.

 

But the gear has been kept _too_ perfectly. Its deep purple unbleached by the sun; the gold hardware perfectly polished. Its crest is gleaming with a splendor that is nowhere to be found in the house it signifies.

 

Rochelle looks over at Zelda with a questioning look. Zelda gives her a short nod, and off comes the purple and gold.

 

She feels awkward standing there while Link and Rochelle tackle the horse in more subtle fare, so she moves off to the side to check her pack again.

 

Even though she’s checked it already. And there’s barely anything in there. Link insists on carrying anything heavy in his own pack.

 

When both horses are finally saddled, and Link and Zelda have made their goodbyes to their hosts with profuse thanks, they set out on the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your wonderful comments and kudos on chapter 1! Also I realized I never named it so went ahead and did that. I wrote the horse scene myself but it still made me cringe. Oi.

**Author's Note:**

> All right y'all I want to fully blame and also celebrate Meriandra for dragging me back into Zelink hell with her phenomenal fic Rise. I wanted to wait until I'd written most of this to post but...I just got too exciiiiiited!
> 
> So, not sure how often this will update but I'm really excited about it right now. Warms my heart, thinking about them two sweet kids doing it. Though it might take a while. But it's me, so yes, we are still going straight into the gutter.


End file.
